


Getting It Out Of Your System

by initialism



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, BDSM, Cunnilingus, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:22:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23594521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/initialism/pseuds/initialism
Summary: AU: Villanelle is a succubus, while Eve works for MI-13, the UK government's anti-demon force.
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 4
Kudos: 98
Collections: Smut 4 Smut 2020





	Getting It Out Of Your System

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Alfer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alfer/gifts).



Villanelle stretched back, pushing her heels into the mattress and using her wingtips to brace herself against the headboard. She licked her lips with her forked tongue as she frigged herself, all the while deepening the fantasy of it being Eve's tongue, not her fingers, working her clit. She imagined her hands clenched in the mortal's frizzy hair, pulling her closer still; the costume the mortal would be wearing, chosen by her, set off with a simple, understated collar, not even an enchanted one, for she would have given herself willingly; the look of fear in her eyes as she dared to look up for a moment, to see Villanelle's true form for the first time, horns and all--

"I wasn't interrupting anything, was I?"

She had been so wrapped up in her fantasy that she hadn't heard Konstantin come in. Knowing him, he'd probably deliberately scried his portal out in the hallway, and then broken into the apartment the mortal way.

Villanelle scowled at him, but didn't do anything to adjust her position. Lewdness was her stock in trade, after all. "Just ... planning a few things."

"You can't survive entirely on phantaplasm," Konstantin said, in his oh-so-deceptive kindly uncle manner. "You need to feed on a mortal's orgone energy eventually." His tone turned sterner: "And you should be wearing your mortal disguise, you know the rules."

Villanelle had to slump down before she transformed, or she would have fallen in a terribly inelegant way when the wings folded away into their pocket dimension.

"Rules," she said dismissively. "For a place founded on rebellion against authority, you people sure do have a lot of rules."

"You talk as though you're not one of us," Konstantin said. "That's a mistake." Villanelle rolled her eyes. "Also a mistake: not completing your assignments."

"Oh, come on," Villanelle said. "That last guy was _awful_. Letting him live will doom hundreds of mortal women to deeply unsatisfactory encounters."

"So you're a utilitarian now? The greatest misery of the greatest number?" When Villanelle didn't say anything, Konstantin went on, "You need to remember that living here in the mortal world is a privilege. The Twelve Princes of Hell have plenty of other uses for someone of your ... talents."

"I assume you're here to give me my new assignment," Villanelle said. "You may as well get it over with."

"No," Konstantin said. "There is no assignment. Nadia's taking care of it."

"Nadia," Villanelle said dismissively. "Sure."

"You have a week to get it together," Konstantin said. "Be ready for your new assignment then. Do whatever you need to do to get over ... this." He waved his hands to encompass the whole scene, before scrying a circular portal in the air at the foot of the bed. Dry heat blasted through it, clearly a deliberate reminder of what awaited her if she was recalled. Konstantin stepped through, his mortal disguise fading instantly on the far side of the portal. Just as the portal was beginning to spiral shut, he put his head back through, so that his balding mortal head was perched improbably on his broad red shoulders. "And stay away from the Polastri woman. MI-13 are more trouble than they're worth."

* * *

Villanelle stayed away from Eve for a whole thirty six hours. First, she tried to distract herself by going shopping, but she kept seeing outfits that would look amazing on Eve, so that didn't really work.

That night, she went out clubbing and made a deliberate point of picking up the woman there who _least_ reminded her of Eve, but back at her conquest's apartment, she had exactly the same sort of combination of a desperate desire to submit and deep denial about it that she detected from Eve. Villanelle drained the woman -- Konstantin had, infuriatingly, been right about that -- but there was no real pleasure in it.

She spent the next day on a long drive, leaving Paris before the start of the rush hour, heading out along the A13 as it followed the Seine. Driving fast, the wind whipping through her hair, might not be one of the pleasures she specialised in professionally, but it was definitely something the mortals had got right. After a brief stop in Rouen, she drove aimlessly around northern France until, as the setting sun began to catch her rear view mirror, she found herself in Calais.

There was no particular significance to being here, she told herself. She could scry her way to London in mere moments from anywhere on Earth, or any other dimension. Then again, that would draw the wrong sort of attention; one or other of Konstantin's minions would be sure to rat her out.

She booked herself onto a late evening Le Shuttle. As the train headed underground, she had a brief memory of the stale hot air that came from Konstantin's portal the day before. But there was no reason for Konstantin to ever find out, if she was careful. And really, his two instructions contradicted each other.

If she was going to be able to focus on her assignments again, she needed to get Eve Polastri out of her system, one way or another.

* * *

Three hours later, Villanelle was standing on the pavement in the sodium orange glow of a streetlight, watching Eve's house. If Eve happened to glance out of the window -- she still hadn't closed the curtains -- she would have seen Villanelle perfectly clearly, but she seemed to be completely engrossed in whatever she was doing on her computer. At least that boring husband of hers was nowhere to be seen. Probably out playing his card games.

Villanelle lost track of how long she stood, watching Eve -- the look of concentration on her face, the way she tucked her hair behind her ear and sucked on her cheap biro when she wasn't using it to scribble down notes. Most delightfully of all, she was wearing one of the dresses Villanelle had sent her. There was no reason why this particular mortal should fascinate her so, she told herself sternly.

Finally, she made her decision, and went up to the front door. Placing her hand on the lock, she sent the tiniest pulse of heat through it, melting it away. It swung open, and the slight creak it made as it did so finally alerted Eve to her presence.

Quick as a flash, Eve had jumped down to a crouch on the floor, pulling a piece of chalk from ... somewhere, and inscribing a circle around herself, muttering a charm as she did so. As she was only a few inches away from completing it, Eve casually stepped forward to smudge out the beginning of the line with her boot. "Ooops," she said.

Eve looked up at her, her delicious fear evident on her face however much she tried to hide it. "I know what you're doing," she said.

"I'm not using any of my powers, if that's what you mean," Villanelle said. "All that desire you're feeling right now, that's coming from you. Just like it was when you used that enchanted dagger on me in Paris."

"I know who you _are_ ," Eve spat. "Oksana."

Villanelle glanced at the laptop: sure enough, Eve had found her way into the relevant files. That must have taken quite some detective work. Curse the mortal tendency to digitise _everything_ these days. "Oksana is dead," she said.

"Yes," Eve said. "She died 152 years ago, in exile in Siberia. Except, of course, she didn't die so much as sell her soul."

"Faking one's own death is literally a rite of passage for us," Villanelle said cheerfully.

"I think this changes things between us," Eve said.

"Oh, no, you know my true name!" Villanelle said, ladling on the sarcasm. "Now you have power over me! I don't think it changes the dynamic between us that much, though, does it? It still looks to me like you're the one on your knees."

Eve, stung by the remark, started to rise to her feet. "Nuh uh uh," Villanelle said, pushing her back down with one firm hand on a shoulder.

It was the first time they'd actually touched that night. The air between them was thick with desire; Villanelle still hadn't ever used her abilities on Eve, nor did she want to. When this mortal's surrender came, it had to be completely willing or it was worth nothing.

"I name you," Eve said. "Oksana."

Villanelle reached down with her other hand to part Eve's lips with her thumb; Eve licked it, seemingly involuntary, instinctive. "Not going to work," Villanelle said. "You may have found out who I used to be, but you already knew who I am now. You already wanted who I am now."

"That's not true," Eve said, too quickly. "I want--"

"What? Mr. Boring? You can't lie to me. He hasn't made you come in a long time."

"You're a succubus," Eve said. "A literal sex demon. Why would I want you?"

"Because you do," Villanelle said. "Because you've never met anyone like me before. You've studied us for so long, but the theory didn't even begin to prepare you for the reality."

"Are you going to kill me?" Eve asked, suddenly plaintive. The fear that had been there all along bubbling up to the surface.

"If I do, I promise to find you in hell and make you my pet," Villanelle said.

"That's not exactly reassuring."

"You don't want to be reassured," Villanelle said. "You _like_ that I scare you."

"Yes," Eve admitted, her eyes cast down.

"Look at me when you're speaking to me," Villanelle barked.

Eve looked up, holding Villanelle's gaze. "Yes, I do. It's intoxicating."

"Are you scared now?"

"Yes," Eve said. "Very."

"Are you turned on now?"

To that, Eve just nodded.

"So what should we do about that?"

"Whatever you want," Eve said quietly.

"Speak up," Villanelle said."

"Whatever you want," Eve said again. "I'll do ... whatever you want."

Villanelle took a small step forward, so that her legs brushed against Eve's hair. Without being asked, Eve tilted her head to begin kissing Villanelle's thighs, in the small gap between the top of her boots and the start of her skirt, desperate kisses that would have left deep bruises if her skin truly was the mortal one she wore. Villanelle hitched up her skirt, allowing Eve to progress further, and buried her other hand in Eve's hair, pulling her in closer still.

Gradually, Eve worked her way further and further up Villanelle's thigh. She rarely wore underwear, but as Eve's cheek brushed against her labia, she had never felt more glad of the fact. Eve herself seemed barely to notice, so intent was she on showing her devotion to Villanelle's inner thigh. Eventually, though, she worked her way round to her cunt, and began licking eagerly.

Villanelle gasped at the contact, at this moment of long-cherished fantasy becoming reality. Never had she encountered a mortal so full of contradictions as Eve, someone so utterly convinced of the righteousness of her cause and at the same time so utterly unconvinced of her own. And now here she was, surrendering to that darker side of her nature, the fact that it went against all her beliefs only sweetening the conquest.

With a single thought, Villanelle transformed into her true form. Eve was so deeply buried in licking her that she didn't even notice at first, but when she did surface for a breath, the only change that Villanelle could detect was the scent of her arousal deepening.

Indeed, if anything, Eve became even more dedicated to licking her, as though seeing her demonic form spurred her on to be more aggressive in her efforts. She circled Villanelle's clit with her tongue before sliding it between her teeth. It wasn't a bite, not exactly, but it wasn't far off. And then she was licking again, fast, desperate motions of her tongue as though she was willing Villanelle to come.

And then, Villanelle _was_ coming. For someone as attuned to her sexuality as she was, it really shouldn't have taken her by surprise, but the situational aspects allied with the pure physical sensations must have tipped her over the edge. Her knees trembled even as she gripped Eve's hair tighter.

"It's all right," Eve said, holding on to her thighs as Villanelle rode out the orgasm. "It's all right, I've got you, Oksana."

When Villanelle regained her composure, she stood upright again. "Very good," she said.

"Thank you," Eve said, her eyes dark pools of submissive desire. Villanelle could tell that she wouldn't even dare to ask to be allowed to come herself.

"You made one tiny mistake at the end there, though," Villanelle said. "What's my true name?"

"Villanelle," Eve said.

"That's right," Villanelle said, holding her close. "That's right."

"What's _my_ true name?" Eve asked.

Villanelle patted her on the back of her head. "I'll let you know when I've decided."


End file.
